


found solace in the strangest place

by finalizer



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M, and then finn wakes up, he's not very subtle, poe is pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-08 22:31:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5515664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finalizer/pseuds/finalizer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Thanks for keeping me company all those weeks," came the explanation. "Would’ve been lonely without you."</p><p>Finn remains unconscious, and Poe can't seem to leave his side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	found solace in the strangest place

**Author's Note:**

> i saw [this art](http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/135600792008) and i melted into the void

  

They brought Finn in in worse condition than Poe had anticipated when he’d heard of what’d happened on Starkiller. His heart lurched to his throat and he couldn’t entirely understand why.

 

Finn was his friend _—_  a new one, it was a tragically brief friendship, but a strong one nonetheless. After everything they’d been put through together in the short while they’d known one another, it was futile to deny a genuine bond had blossomed into existence.

 

It was that, and something else. Firstly, Poe’s worry for a friend’s wellbeing; and then something else that he could have pinpointed with startling accuracy if only he had the guts to admit it to himself. He didn’t, not yet, and he didn’t want to jump to conclusions all too quickly.

 

He wasn’t permitted into medical for the first few days, receiving bits and pieces of news about Finn’s condition from select medics and attendants. Finn’s condition was constantly shifting, unstable one moment, half decent the next. Poe lingered about, pestering whoever he could get his hands on about the patient in question. There was nothing subtle about his frantic queries, and he blamed that on his stubborn personality, rather than some sort of infatuation.

 

 _Except_   _—_

 

Finn was eventually stabilized, the medics confident enough with his state to leave him to rest and recover; finally, blessedly, opening the doors to visitors.

 

Poe, predictably enough, was the first one through the door.

 

One look at Finn, bruised and bandaged and lying on the bed had Poe struck with the immediate realization that, _no_ , it was something far worse than infatuation. _Fuck, Dameron_ , he chided himself, it was a damn crush, no need to sugarcoat it.

 

And that was day one. Poe lingered by the door for a moment, then ducked inside and let the door slide shut behind him. He wondered briefly if Finn would have any more visitors. With Rey gone, the chances were small.

 

There was a single stiff looking chair at Finn’s bedside, placed there for those keeping vigil, and the medics that came to check up on vitals every so often and preferred to sit while tapping the statistics down onto their pads.

 

Poe took a seat and did little more than stare. His mind raced back to his own brush with mortality not too long ago, and whether he’d looked this _broken_ to Finn when he’d piloted them to freedom, blood dripping freely down his face.

 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, mind eerily blank and eyes glued to Finn’s wounds, before he extended his hand and took Finn’s limp fingers in his own _—_  they were jarringly cold and Poe felt compelled to scoot closer, wrapping both hands around Finn’s to seep some much needed warmth into his skin.

 

Poe couldn’t visit the next day, work disabling him from tending to what he really wanted to be doing. He loved his job, what he did, wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the universe _—_  yet he found that with Finn in the med bay, alone and discarded, he couldn’t quite focus on tuning the engine of his starfighter.

 

He sent BB-8 over to Finn’s bedside, to keep watch and alert him should anything change. Maybe he was overdoing it, but Poe couldn’t bring himself to care about appearances. And then it became a pattern _—_  when Poe worked, or was otherwise occupied, the droid would roll over to the med bay and remain there until his owner arrived to relieve it from its dutiful watch.

 

Poe came by in the evenings after work, and on the mornings he had off. He sat in the metal chair for hours, railing digging uncomfortably into his spine; he ignored the discomfort and lingered, fingers wrapped around Finn’s wrist. In time, he wasn’t sure anymore if he was comforting Finn or himself, pretending that everything was okay.

 

The visitations became routine _—_  so familiar that Poe found himself skipping work one bad day, caught up in some inexplicable rush of emotion, feeling overwhelmed by everything, by life itself, and instead let his feet carry him down to where Finn lay.

 

And he caught himself talking that day, leaning back into the chair, hands folded in his lap. He told Finn of everything that’d been bothering him for the past few hours, then the past few days, followed by numerous anecdotes from his childhood, which he vividly recalled.

 

He knew, rather hoped, that Finn couldn’t hear his pointless chatter. For lack of a better word, it was freeing _—_  exhilarating, even _—_  to get everything off his chest, to share things he’d never found himself sharing with anyone else. And though he couldn’t hear him, Poe realized he would not mind telling Finn any of it, if he were really listening.

 

A few more days flew by and the next time Poe dropped by the medical wing he discovered the stiff chair had been replaced by an armchair: small, compact, but a huge improvement from the backache-inducing metal contraption he’d spent so many hours in. Someone had noticed the long stretches of time Poe stayed in Finn’s room _—_  he was being obvious, apparently, but he felt no shame, rather the urge to thank whoever it was that cared enough about his spine to furnish him with the new seat.

 

When Poe left that afternoon, he untangled his fingers from Finn’s, and, before he left, pressed a tentative kiss to Finn’s forehead. He later asked BB-8 what the hell he was even thinking doing that. The droid chirped.

 

Over a week had gone by with Finn’s condition failing to change, for better or worse. It was driving Poe up the wall, making him more jittery and anxious than he cared to admit. His coworkers could see his murky mood, but chalked it up to all the stress he’d endured _—_  some late acting variation of PTSD, et cetera.

 

He visited Finn after work one evening, after some particularly lengthy overtime, dead tired and swaying on his feet. He’d meant to head to his quarters, but the sheer sense of familiarity left him turning the other way, straight to Finn’s room in the med bay. Without thinking, working with muscle memory, Poe sank into the armchair, and the rest was history.

 

He was woken by the sturdy grip of a medic shaking his shoulder. Poe jerked his head up and found that it’d been cushioned on the corner of Finn’s mattress for the majority of the night, which explained the kink in his neck. He forced out a peppy smirk and thanked the medic for waking him before he could miss his shift, then promptly excused himself to wallow in embarrassment alone, in his room. Not that it was shameful, being caught like that, except his bedhead was the thing of nightmares and he’d most likely drooled onto the mattress.

 

Nearing the two week marker, Poe found himself more distracted than usual, losing sleep increasingly often, legitimately terrified that the medics could be placating him, that Finn’s comatose state could be irreversible.

 

There was a lapse in judgment, one night, after he’d spent a good few minutes rambling on to Finn about his newfound concerns, deep down wishing that Finn would just get with the damn program and open his eyes (he missed their bright sparkle). Poe sighed, discouraged by the constant silence, the stillness of it all, and got to his feet, ready to leave to his quarters and have BB-8 talk some sense into his stubborn, ridiculously lovesick brain.

 

Poe failed to stop himself, however, from leaning over Finn, as was his routine by now; but rather than a familiar peck on the forehead, he found himself pressing a soft kiss to his lips instead.

 

Scratch that, he needed BB-8 to _beat_ some sense into him.

 

/

 

It was hardly extraordinary when Finn finally woke, his fingers twitching infinitesimally, intertwined with Poe’s own, rousing Poe from the light sleep he'd drifted into.

There was a soft gasp as Finn slipped back into consciousness, eyes flickering open then back shut, jarred by the lights overhead.

Poe shot up from where he'd reclined into his seat, leaning over Finn and resting his hand on Finn’s shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. "Shh, hey," he whispered, "you're safe. You're okay."

It took a brief moment, but Finn’s breathing evened out, his grip on Poe’s fingers loosening from where he'd squeezed his hand in panic just seconds before. His eyes remained shut, yet there was something placating about the warmth of the touch on his shoulder, the soothing words muttered by a voice he could almost place.

Finn forced his eyelids open, fighting against their punishing weight, willing his eyes to adjust to the brightness so different from the pitch black expanse he'd grown used to.

Poe Dameron was half hovering over him, concern etched plainly onto his features as he reciprocated Finn’s grasp on his hand.

Finn tried to form words, and he was dismayed but not entirely surprised to find his throat couldn't quite get a single sound to escape his lips.

"Buddy, hey, take it easy," Dameron was saying, a litany of calming nothings, trying to anchor Finn to the reality he'd woken up in. "Don't push yourself. Just _—_  slow down, hm?"

There were a million questions rushing through Finn’s newly functional mind, and he hated that he couldn't organize his thoughts enough to prioritize what he needed to get across first. He hated that his throat, dry and hoarse, refused to let a sound out even if he wanted it to. His body felt like lead, far too heavy, and he almost let himself get pulled back under.

"Finn?" the voice beside him was growing alarmed and Finn realized he'd let his eyes fall shut once more. "Finn, buddy, come on, stay with me. Nap time is over."

Finn did as he was told, unable to resist the frantic edge to Dameron’s voice that struck a painful chord somewhere in his chest, and he struggled to open his eyes again.

The room came into focus this time around _—_  small and compact, in the medical bay _—_  and Finn shifted his head an inch to the side, taking in the sudden relief flooding Poe’s face. The lingering touch on his shoulder was still there, his fingers, lying limp across the bedsheets, still intertwined with Poe’s.

Finn couldn't help that the first words out of his mouth were a hectic question. "Rey _—_  where's Rey?" 

Poe breathed out a sigh, as if he were expecting the question, or perhaps hoping for Finn to say something else entirely. His eyes were soft, lined with turmoil.

He answered nonetheless, quiet and placating. "She's fine," then he paused, unsure of how to continue. "She's okay, she wasn't hurt _—_  she left. Don't worry about it now."

Even through his haze, Finn could tell Poe was choosing his words carefully, fully aware of how much Rey meant to Finn, how genuinely worried he was that something had happened to her.

Finn nodded slowly, shifting slightly and failing to suppress a hiss of pain as his bandages caught on the bedsheets.

Poe reacted immediately. "Shit. Is something wrong? Do you need me to get someone _—_  ?"

Finn cut off his rambling before it morphed into a lengthy rant.

"Fine," he croaked. "I'm fine, Poe."

Poe's fingers stilled palpably in Finn’s grasp; then he flushed at the realization that it was Finn’s voice saying his name that had such a visible effect on him.

It wasn't as if he was actively denying his infatuation, just that Finn had been too unconscious to have been made aware of it before.

Poe took Finn’s gentle response as a sign to sit back down and stop fretting like an overprotective parent. He sank into the seat and felt a surge of heat in his chest when Finn’s hand tightened the grip on his own, not wanting to relinquish its hold.

It was different when Finn was awake _—_  none of the openness he'd displayed when he'd hovered by Finn’s sleeping form over the past few weeks -– instead a slow tentativeness, restraint and hesitation holding him back from rushing forward and pulling Finn’s lips to his own.

He was thankful for the dim enough lights successfully concealing the reddish tint threatening to crawl over his cheeks. Finn was looking at him oddly enough as it was, as if trying to decipher a mystery he was on the very edge of solving.

It felt, right about then, like the both of them were skirting around a topic they both wished to speak of, but couldn't quite figure out how to begin.

A beat passed, and a medic hurried into the room, Finn’s vitals no doubt having signaled his awakening. The interruption was a godsend, sparing them from sitting there and deliberating their uncertainty in silence, both comfortable and uncomfortable in equal measure.

Poe was politely asked to leave, and leave he did, shooting Finn one last warm, tight lipped smile before he disappeared into the hall.

 

 

He did not return for the remainder of the day, telling himself it was because he didn't know how long the medical exam would last, he didn't want to be a bother.

BB-8 chirped at him when he returned to his quarters that night, as if it sensed the tension that must have been radiating off Poe in waves.

 

 

He didn't know what to say to Finn, but staying away, avoiding him was far worse than facing the turmoil he was feeling head on, and he found himself back at the doorway to Finn’s room, bright and early the next morning. A passing nurse gave him a knowing look as she hurried past, and Poe wondered exactly how over-eager he appeared.

"You didn't come back yesterday," was Finn’s greeting of choice, nearly stopping Poe in his tracks as he approached the bed.

He slipped on a casual smile. "Thought you might be busy for the rest of the night."

Finn didn't let his gaze drop from Poe as he took the last few steps across the room and settled down in his chair.

"Hi," Poe said, a proper hello, "how are you feelin'?"

"Better," Finn told him, and he sounded better, far more _alive_ than he had the previous day.

Poe couldn't stop the genuine relief from pushing a brighter smile onto his lips. "That's good to hear."

Barely a minute passed before Finn spoke up again, unable to keep whatever it was to himself any longer. "Doc told me I’d been out for a hell of a long time", he began, "and -– that you were right in that chair for most of it."

Poe tried very hard not to choke on the air he was breathing. He’d tried to keep his behavior subtle and was shocked to find he’d failed spectacularly enough for the medics to notice and relay the message to their patient. Also, he hadn’t spent _that_ much time in the armchair, really, more so the crappy metal chair it’d replaced.

Actually, backtrack that. He hadn’t been subtle at all.

Finn continued before Poe could implode from his sudden fit of self-awareness. "That’s a nice thing to hear _—_  touching," he added. "You must’ve been damn bored to sit around here all day, every day."

It took approximately three seconds and a mindless rush of adrenaline for Poe to decide to roll with the punches and deal with his emotions like the grown man he was. "No, I _—_  I didn’t mind."

Poe wracked his mind for the right words to say next and Finn stayed silent, patiently waiting. Sheer honesty seemed like the best call to make. Scary, but genuine, at least.

"I talked to you sometimes," Poe said, voice quieter than before. "I guess you couldn’t hear me _—_  maybe that’s a good thing; I rambled on a lot, I tend to do that. I _—_ don’t know, it felt easy _—_  telling you all those things, pretending you were listening, that I had someone to talk to ‘bout it all."

Poe Dameron did not blush, nor was he the timid type (far from it), but he found himself tripping over words and sentimentalities like he’d never said anything like that before. Which, looking back on his entire life, he hadn’t. Not like this.

The corner of Finn’s lips quirked upward and he suggested, "If you’re up for repeating yourself, I’d love to hear all about it. Everything _—_  I mean, everything you said, I’d like to listen."

It was practically a reflex, when Finn held up his hand, palm up, and Poe reached out and twined his fingers with Finn’s. He almost pulled back, seeing what he’d done, and how easily (eagerly) he’d done it, but Finn’s expression didn’t suggest he disliked the gesture _—_  rather the opposite.

Poe stared at their interwoven hands for a brief moment before snapping his gaze back up to meet Finn’s content (but vaguely amused) smile to answer his query.

"Sure," said Poe, "I’ll tell you everything, but _—_  why don’t you get better first, get back on your feet? I don’t wanna accidentally bore you to death in your fragile state and all."

Finn rolled his eyes at Poe’s attempt at a lighthearted joke. It looked odd on him, especially with the tired dark circles under his eyes, as if he were just learning to use human gestures and expressions _—_  which wasn’t far from the truth.

Silence took over once more, far from unnerving. Poe found there was something remarkable about spending time with someone in utter stillness, not saying a word, just sitting there, existing in one’s presence in tranquility. It wasn’t a waste of time or energy. Though it was potentially embarrassing to admit that the only other individual he felt comfortable enough around was his BB-8.

"Hey, Dameron?"

Finn’s voice pulled him away from his odd nostalgic reminiscing.

He barely had the time to get out a strangled "Hmm?" before he was being tugged forward, Finn’s grip surprisingly strong on his wrist, and, with Finn’s other hand suddenly cupping his jaw, angling him down, pulled into a soft kiss.

Poe let out a quiet sound of surprise and braced his free hand on the mattress, beside Finn’s head, stopping himself from outright tumbling onto the bed. He got over himself, his disbelief, quick enough to lean into kiss before Finn broke away.

"Thanks for keeping me company all those weeks," came the explanation. "Would’ve been lonely without you."

 


End file.
